My Dad

Hello.

Today was Father's Day. My day began on the soccer field at 9:15 AM. The early game got everyone on and off the field in good time to enjoy the sunny, cool day.

After our game, we drove to a diner half-way between our home and my mom and dad's home. We like to meet for breakfast about once a month. It was great to see my dad on Father's Day.

My dad is 76 years old. He is a retired school teacher and then a retired historian and now he does a lot of volunteering in my home town. He takes art classes and exercises every day. If you met him, you would not believe he is 76. He reads whenever he gets the chance, which is every day. It is so great to have him.

My dad was a teacher in the same high school where I attended. People often asked me what it was like having my dad teach in the same place as where I went to school. Every time they'd asked me, I didn't really have an answer. I grew up admiring my dad as a teacher knowing that someday he'd be teaching in the same school as I. (We only had one high school in my small town.) It was a matter of fact that our paths would cross eventually.

My dad still lives in the same house I grew up in. He still walks to the post office and bank and dentist. He has watched his students grow up and have families. There isn't one place that he frequents where he doesn't bump into a past student. (I'm talking generations of students.) I live 100 miles from him and even I bump into his past students. It's amazing.

My dad likes to spend time with his daughters (and grandchildren). You know, teaching wasn't the best paying profession in my small town. I remember my dad teaching school for twenty years and celebrating his finally making twenty thousand dollars. (I think that is a sad commentary about our society as a whole but I'm not going to get into that right now.) The point I want to make is that my dad taught at the same school that all of his daughters attended. (There is no monetary value one can place on that benefit.) He saw us everyday during our high school years. He respected our age and interests and let us become our own person. He watched with an eye of pride and wisdom, taking joy in our triumphs, and giving thoughtful words during our trials. When teenage events seemed so big and important to us at the time, he had the overview to know it was 'just a moment' in our lives, and he directed us with timely advice to keep us feeling valued and cared for but also independent and smart. I appreciate that.

My dad teaches lessons without saying words too. He has his daily schedule and routine, which encompasses morning exercise to take care of his body, scripture reading to care of his spirit and daily volunteering to care of his soul. I can wake up any day of the week and know what he will be doing on that day or at a certain time of that day. He lives season to season, mowing the lawn, raking the leaves, or shoveling the snow. He takes out the trash every week, reads at church every few weeks, and sends his granddaughter's gas money after receiving his pension check every month. He doesn't have to say a word and we all know the things he values most in his life and how important it is to attain to your highest ideals. I admire that.

As I grow older and experience the life of a parent, I draw comfort in the memories of how my dad lived his life. I also take care and make a mental note of how he lives during these golden years.

He is my example.
He is my role model.
He is my dad.

Have hope,
Donna